Laughter and Cocoa
by Adonis blue
Summary: The prequel to Tears in My Tea: Even if a war raged on outside, at least this would be how she wanted it—
1. A Dash of Cinnamon

**A/N**: This is after the fashion of "Tears in My Tea.." I suppose it could be called a sort-of prequel. I was immensely enjoying a cup of hot chocolate and decided that maybe I should share it.

Just to warn you, it's rather fluffy. I'm not sure that I believe that the actual occurrence er…occurred this way, but I decided to write it anyway. War does screwy things to people, but I look at it as how the later generations of Potters, either untouched by war or plagued by nostalgia, imagined it to be. I hope you like it. I would appreciate a review, if you please.

**Disclaimer**: I, of course, do not own any of the characters, plots, etc. of the _Harry Potter_ series. They belong to the incredibly brilliant J. K. Rowling. This is simply my attempt to exercise my imagination.

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**Laughter and Cocoa **

_A Dash of Cinnamon _

"Lily!" James shouted at his front door. He was standing outside in the bitter cold, and growing a tad impatient. Even though they both believed it to be a ridiculous practice, Lily had lately decided that the Ministry advice on having personal passwords should be taken. God only knows why. She thought it to be just as stupid as he did. But a sudden change of heart had left her in a stubborn mood, insisting upon creating "personal identification passwords" and leaving him standing outside in the cold more often than usual.

James had just left a meeting of the Order, and was considerably tired, and now, considerably cold. He just wanted to be inside with Lily, whom he had forced to remain home because she had been incredibly ill earlier.

"James?" he heard a voice on the other side of the door.

"It's me, Lily, let me in."

Wait, first—"

"I know, he sighed. "It's your great bullying toe-rag, come home to sweep you off your feet," he grimaced.

"You're much too cheeky. I shouldn't let you in."

"C'mon Lily, we both know this whole plan is a bunch of crock the Ministry cooked up to make people feel better. I'm freezing out here, and I know the password was in there somewhere. I even said your part for you. I _thought_ that it would save me some time."

"Yes," Lily threw open the door, and pulled James inside, trying to keep her mouth shut and suppress her smile. For this reason, it was an extremely tight-lipped kiss that she placed on the corner of his mouth.

He delicately (well, as delicately as he could) placed his hands on her arms and held her away from him in order to examine her. "Is everything alright, Lily?"

"What? Oh, yes, of course, dear. Everything is wonderful."

James' eyes scrutinized every inch of his wife's face, looking for evidence that would explain her odd behaviour.

Her emerald eyes held him up. As cliché as it sounded, they positively sparkled, as if they actually were two gemstones, chosen carefully by her to torment him. He wanted to continue his examination, but those damn eyes of hers that had snared him years before had caught him once again.

Somehow, he managed to speak. "Evans, you'd better not be lying to me." He used her maiden name when he was seriously angry with her, or when he teased her—although he could never really be seriously angry.

Lily knew this, and she knew exactly how to use it to her advantage.

"I'm not, Potter, I promise," she played along.

But his previous dumbfounded behaviour had given her the chance to examine him. She noticed the purple crescents under his eyes and the pinkish-red blotches on his cheeks.

Lily frowned. "Bad day, dear?" Lily silently cursed herself. She was going to burst if she didn't say something soon. But she wanted everything to be perfect. Even if a war raged on outside, at least this would be how she wanted it—under her complete control.

To cover herself, she slid his cloak off of his shoulders and turned away under the guise of hanging it in the hall cupboard.

When she turned back around, she found James staring at her once again.

James raised an eyebrow. Lily had sounded much too happy. "Er…it was…rough," James finished, still trying to figure out the enigma that was his wife. If only he could ignore those eyes of hers…

"I'm sorry," she said. But she didn't sound sorry at all. In fact, she sounded absolutely elated that he'd had a bad day. What was going on here?

Lily slid her arms around James' neck and balanced on her toes so that she could whisper in his ear. "Well why don't you come into the kitchen, and I'll fix you a drink?"

"That sounds wonderful, Lily." James sighed and allowed his beautiful wife to lead him into their kitchen. Her feet, making almost no noise, bore a pair of golden socks with tiny red Quaffles floating around the hem—James' socks.

He smiled. Her feet were always cold. So cold, in fact, that she would brave wearing his putrid socks to keep warm.

Of course, James hadn't worn those in a while. She had taken them while they were still at school. Maybe the odour had subsided.

They arrived in the kitchen, and in her excitement, Lily practically shoved him into his chair.

His hip bone smacked against one of the rungs in the back. He decided to forgo any comments or teasing in favour of relaxing, but as he allowed the chair back to support a bulk of his weight, he found the urge difficult to suppress.

"You're getting abusive again, aren't you." He expected a well-aimed insult, but instead, Lily turned around, all white teeth, and placed a powder-blue mug in front of him. In her own hands, she held its mate, and she slid into the chair beside him.

James' eyes fell on the mug and the steaming chocolate liquid within. "What's this?" he asked, forgetting that she had not yet returned his jest.

"Cocoa," she chirped. "My mother used to make if for me to celebrate."

James perked up. Celebrate? It wasn't her birthday or their anniversary, he was sure of it. Unless it was some obscure holiday that she had made up…Like the first day she'd slapped him, or the first time they'd snuck out together after-hours.

Leave it to Lily to think of something like that. Women always made up stupid holidays. James and his fellow Marauders had decided that they did it just to make guys' lives miserable. How could they possibly be expected to remember something so stupid and inconsequential?

Nervously, his tongue flicked over his lips. He didn't want to make her angry. Goodness knows she had blown up at him enough times this week. He didn't want his forgetting the date that she first passed him a friendly note in class—or something like that--to be the catalyst to another explosion.

Finding a distraction in the mug before him, James brought the drink to his mouth and drew in the steam, eventually allowing some of the cocoa to wash over his taste buds.

Apparently, this was a good thing to do. "Like it?" queried Lily, who still had not ceased her smiling.

"It wasn't exactly the sort of drink I was hoping for." The words escaped him before he could screen himself. Lily frowned. Damn. He was done for.

"But it's wonderful," he finished in an attempt to save himself. Just for good measure, he took another sip from the mug.

"What's in this?" James, upon sloshing the drink around in his mouth, noticed that the chocolate had a pleasant but peculiar taste to it.

Lily was back to smiling again. He figured that he was safe. "Cinnamon and vanilla. My mother used her special recipe whenever we were—"

"Celebrating," James finished, now smiling himself. Her good mood, apparently, was contagious. "I like it. So, what are we celebrating?" He asked the question gently, tentatively, hoping to catch her off her guard. Still, Lily was sharp, and he braced himself for the worst.

When the storm never came, James returned his eyes to the glowing red-head before him. What _was_ going on with her?

"Well," Lily began. James didn't know how she managed to talk, her smile was so wide.

As for Lily, she didn't know either. "Do you remember that time last month when you were gone all day and retuned in the middle of the night?"

He did. A grin to rival Lily's was sneaking up his face. She had not noticed. She was busy staring into her cup, trying vainly to hide her flushed face and the fact that her voice was having trouble staying in one octave.

"And we uh...well..." she trailed off.

James decided it was time to relieve her. "I sure do." He glanced fondly at a spot over near the icebox.

Looking up this time, she saw where his gaze rested and jolted him out of his dream-reverie by…

"James." But it was a soft reprimand. Hardly one at all.

"What?" he replied, moving her hand away from the mug and pulling it closer to himself. "You are my wife, after all."

"Yes, I'm aware of that. Now more than ever." She pulled away and walked over to fiddle with something on the counter by the sink.

James decided he'd just have to risk spoiling it. "Lily, what's going on? What is it you aren't telling me?" She was usually so straightforward. If there was something on her mind, she let him know.

"Well, you know I've been a bit—_testy_ lately…"

"Yes. So you finally admit it?"

"Yes. And I'm sorry about that." James couldn't believe his ears.

"Are you really my wife? Are you Lily Evans Potter?" He rose from his seat and turned her to him.

"Of course I am. Don't be daft, James. How could I—"

He held up a hand, cutting her off. Yep, that was definitely her.

Lily sighed. This was going to more difficult than she had originally anticipated. "And you know I haven't been feeling my best these past few weeks?" she ploughed on.

James eyes showed his concern. "Yes—did you visit St. Mungo's today?" She barely had time to nod. "Do they know what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, James," she nodded suggestively. Lily was back to beaming again. She felt sure he would put two and two together now.

"That's great! But do they know why you were sick?" James' expression clearly told his wife that he remained blissfully ignorant. Normally his occasional stupidity was endearing, but in this case, it was starting to annoy her.

Lily rolled her eyes and groaned in frustration. "Honestly James, I don't know how you ever graduated, let alone made Head Boy. Although I can't say I'm not grateful for that—at least, I _was_, but I'm not so sure now."

Dumbly, James stepped backward. How had he gone downhill so quickly? "What?" Okay, this was ridiculous—and Lily's face began to turn a red colour precariously similar to her hair—never a good sign.

Lily practically shouted at him. "It appears that a bit more went on that night than we anticipated."

"More? But I think I remember everything. I mean, that's not a night I'll easily forget." His expression was maddening.

Lily clutched the counter behind her to keep her hands from scratching out James' eyes. Her perfect method just wasn't working. And it was all the fault of the stupid git she married.

Just then, a familiar knock sounded throughout the house, and the couple jumped together.

James, grateful for an out, spoke first. "It's Sirius!" And he bolted for the front door.

"Make sure you check that it's him," called Lily, trailing after James.

"I know." James turned to the door, his dark wand pointed toward the knob. "Who is it?" he called through the wood.

"It's me, you stupid arse. Now let me in, Prongs." Lily couldn't help but laugh. Her husband's best mate, Sirius, perfectly expressed her feelings at the moment and provided a wonderful release for some of her pent-up energy.

James, for his part, was glad Lily was laughing once again. He had been afraid that their conversation would turn into another pointless row to match those they had been having all week. James smiled crookedly at the laughing Lily.

"Yep, that's definitely him." He opened the door.

In waltzed Sirius Black—just arrived after a flight on his motorcycle—by the look of him.

Sirius crossed into the manor as if he owned the place. Then again, he did spend a lot of time there.

Out of desperation, Lily turned to Sirius, praying silently for an ally. "Sirius, thank goodness. Maybe you can help my dolt of a husband figure it out."

By now, Lily was not the only one who had reached her breaking point. James was thoroughly annoyed over this piece of information that Lily was assuming that he knew. When he spoke, his words revealed his impatience. "And just what am I _supposed_ to have figured out?" he bellowed in exasperation.

Lily shouted back involuntarily, the pressure and weight of her immense news bursting forth from her like the first rays of sun though the clouds. "I'M PREGNANT, YOU IDIOT!" Her almond eyes grew almost round, and hand over her mouth, Lily dashed into the living room.

She collapsed into an armchair, hiding her face in her hands. This was not how she imagined breaking the news to James. How would he take it, now, that she had blurted everything out like that? Lily didn't want to think about it.

From the hall there arose a cry, slowly growing in volume. Lily looked up just in time to see a black blur shooting toward her from across the living room. Before she could register what was happening, Lily was in the air, whirling around the living room furniture in the arms of her husband.

Her strangled cry of surprise soon melted into laughter that mixed with James' various yells and an occasional war whoop from Sirius. This was much more like she had imagined.

Finally, when Lily could take no more, she shouted over her husband, calling "James! James, please! I'm getting dizzy." The sudden stop made her head spin even more. A warm hand immediately went to her forehead. A moment later, she found herself off of the ground once again. Only this time, James cradled her in his arms and carried her over to the couch.

"Oh my God, Lily. I'm sorry. Are-are you alright? Do you need anything? You shouldn't be doing a thing…I'll do everything from now on; you won't have to lift a finger," James rambled on. "I'll start with dinner tonight."

"Whoa," came Sirius' voice from his safe-haven near the fireplace. "I came here for dinner, but if Prongs is cooking, I might as well swallow a cauldron-full of poison."

"Hey!" James protested.

"If that means you'll come a few less night a week to eat all the food in the house, Sirius, I think I'll let James cook from now on." James smiled. Lily could hold her own.

"What!" Sirius protested indignantly. "I am insulted. I come here and grace you with my presence, and you…"

Lily's bubbling laughter cut him off. "Alright. James, I'm perfectly capable of going about all normal activities. I'm not an invalid; I'm just pregnant."

James looked a bit uncertain, but he nodded. It would probably be better for the both—no, now the _three_ of them if Lily continued to do the cooking.

"In that case, I'm starved. Having a baby really works up an appetite."

"_I'm_ having the baby, dear, and it won't come for another 7 months."

"I think he meant making the baby, Lils," Sirius responded with a hearty wink, his black hair falling over one eye.

Lily blushed, but hey—this was Sirius after all. "Well we didn't make it tonight." Lily crossed her arms over her chest, grimaced, and immediately removed her arms from that now-tender locale.

"No, we—_Oh_." James eyes widened. "So that's what you meant by—" He gestured toward the kitchen.

"James!" Lily cut him off with a warning as she rose hastily from the couch, smoothing her green robes. "Well, that's the nearest I can figure, anyway," she whispered before adding, "I'm going to start dinner."

"We should let Moony and Wormtail know!" Sirius piped up again. "Have a proper Marauder celebration."

James glanced tentatively at Lily, but found that she was smiling crookedly. "Oh all right," she answered his unasked question with a wave of her hand. "I suppose two more won't make a difference." Lily turned to leave for the kitchen, but was stopped short by Sirius' bark-like laughter.

A look at James showed her that he wore the same confused expression that she did. "What's so funny?" He asked.

Neither Potter was sure how Sirius managed to get the words out. By now, he was practically doubled over on the floor. "Prongs—ha—a—ha ha—fa—ha—ha—ther! Lily'll ha ha have t—two babies in the ha—house," the incapacitated young man somehow managed to gasp out.

Perhaps due to fear at finding some truth in Sirius' words, James' usual swift comeback caught in his throat. Lily's, however, did not. "That makes three with you, Sirius."

Sirius' laughter ceased abruptly and he bowed dramatically toward Lily, who smiled and left the room.

Two hours later, the four grown Marauders plus Lily sat around the Potter's dining room table, laughing and enjoying the remnants of a pumpkin pie with hot cocoa for desert. Now that James knew exactly what they were celebrating, the vanilla and cinnamon became even more pronounced in the chocolate drink, and all the more enjoyable—especially when he had his friends to share it with.

Suddenly, mid-laugh, Lily dropped her mug on the table. The effect was similar to a member of the Wizengamot banging a gavel. All heads turned in her direction. She said nothing, but looked pitifully at James before dashing from the table and down the hall toward the bathroom, leaving behind a full mug of cocoa.

"Well, Prongs, I think that's our cue." Sirius stood from the table, throwing his napkin beside his empty plate and mug. Peter followed suit, and Remus rose and slipped through the door into the kitchen to drop his plate in the sink.

All four men cringed as the sounds of retching floated toward them from the loo.

Sirius spoke first. "Thanks for dinner."

"Congratulations again, James, and tell Lily the same," Remus added, emerging from behind the swinging door.

James turned white at the sounds of coughing. "She's been doing this all week."

"Sorry, mate." Sirius clapped James on the back.

"Yeah sorry to leave you like this," piped up Peter. "Thanks…er…We'll be back to visit soon."

"Preferably on a day when she's not doing that," squirmed Sirius, jabbing a finger at the direction of the sounds.

"Sirius," chastised Remus.

"What? Who wants to listen to that?"

"It's not like she can help it."

Sirius blinked back a shudder, causing his coal black hair to swing into his face in the process. "Still."

"I agree—no offence," spoke Peter. "Bye guys." And turning on the spot, he disappeared with a pop.

Remus nodded toward James before following suit.

At last, only Sirius remained. "Well Prongs, I'll see you, eh, probably tomorrow." James nodded in response. In the background, the two heard the sounds of a toilet flushing followed by running water. "Good luck," Sirius half-smiled and disapparated outside—right on top of his bike.

Sure, it was unnecessary, but James figured that Sirius wanted to escape as soon as possible. He didn't blame him in the least. James wouldn't have minded escaping for a while either.

Sighing, he headed toward the living room. He needed to rest and think for a minute. The entire evening had passed in a blur.

"Sorry about that." Lily padded into the living room and settled herself on the sofa next to James. "Where is everyone? It is way too quiet in here for having Sirius in the house," she remarked, looking around her.

"Left."

"Oh, I see."

"They said to say thanks. And congratulations," James added as an afterthought.

"That was nice of them."

"Mmm."

"James?"

"Yeah?"

"I suppose everything is still in the dining room?"

Uh oh, Lily was going to hold him to his earlier promise. "I suppose it is."

"James—" Lily began.

But she needn't have. James was already hoisting himself off of the plush, gold couch and strolling lazily toward the dining room.


	2. A Hint of Vanilla

**Disclaimer**: I, of course, do not own any of the characters, plots, etc. of the _Harry Potter_ series. They belong to the incredibly brilliant J. K. Rowling. This is simply my attempt to exercise my imagination.

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**Laughter and Cocoa**

_A Hint of Vanilla_

A short while later, after James levitated the plates and other dinnerware into the kitchen and Lily surveyed the dishes as they washed themselves in the sink, husband and wife moved in concert into the serenity of the living room.

With a hearty sigh, Lily collapsed onto the smaller sofa. James, however, slid into a pale gold wingback chair catty-corner to Lily's seat.

He soon found that sitting was about all he could manage. Thinking, at this point in the night, was beyond him. He simply sat, knowing he should be processing the day's events and implications, and caring very little that he couldn't manage it.

Lily knew what he was thinking from the glassy sheen coating James' eyes. Or rather, she knew what that far-off look meant. If he was thinking at all, those thoughts wouldn't be pretty ones. At least he hadn't walked out. _Yet_.

James blinked and Lily started in surprise—but only slightly. She shook herself from within for her silliness. But shaking can sometimes stir up unwanted thoughts that have been buried, especially if the burial had occurred only recently.

For one thing, James had reacted beautifully earlier. More perfectly than she could have imagined. But now—

Now he sat alone—_**and**_ _on the other side of the room_, frowned Lily. He obviously wanted to be far away from her. Ever since their friends had made their great escape, James was acting too much like the unhappy husband of her nightmarish daydreams.

Although she supposed it could be worse. He could be shouting at her. No wait—that was preferable. At least he would be talking to her. What he was doing now, Lily admitted, was pretty bad. The only way the situation could possibly worsen would be for James to bolt. Just to assure herself that James' state would not warrant that tragic reaction, Lily looked at him—this time long and hard.

James felt Lily's eyes burning into the side of his head once again. He made a point to fix his eyes on everything – anything – but her. Would she be angry with him? Or upset? Neither option was a desirable one.

If someone should point a wand at his temple, threaten him with the Killing Curse, and tell him to choose, James supposed he'd take the angry Lily. That in no way signified a desire to be on the receiving end of her infernal temper, but he would be lying to himself (and everyone else) if he refused to admit that he found her attractive--unbearably so at times--when her face flushed and her hair lit on fire. But he let himself get off-track.

Lily upset -- that presented a problem. He couldn't deal with his own feel—the "f" word – right now; he didn't want to take on hers as well.

She felt it all night. Something floated in the air along with the happiness. Something that didn't really have a right to be near any such joyous occasion, but dared to rear its ugly head anyway. Something that both Lily and James Potter hated, loathed, and despised with every fibre of their beings…

Fear. A four-letter word that prickled the skin on your back and made the hair stand on end. Who knew one word could so inspire others to live up to its meaning—and then some.

Bravery, chivalry—these were things the young couple dealt with each and every day. They were both chosen for Gryffindor in their Hogwarts years, after all. But fear, fear could paralyze and immobilize for that crucial second when action is necessary for survival.

And now, as James sat pondering the meanings of survival, he found that he could no longer process any semblance of coherent thought. Fear numbed him and then prepared to suck him dry of any energy and emotion.

What was it Sirius had said? So much had happened that night, James could barely remember.

James risked a darting glance at Lily. Okay, so maybe he wasn't being entirely honest with himself. His breath escaped as a deep moan from the bottom of his throat.

Not being _entirely_ honest? He was lying outright. H remembered exactly what Sirius had said. He could visualize Sirius saying it—or choking it out between puffs of laughter, really.

_Prongs—ha—a—ha ha—fa—ha—ha—ther! Lily'll ha ha have t—two babies in the ha—house_

_Lily will have two babies_, James repeated to himself, attempting to block out the images of a doubled-over Sirius pounding for attention in his head. And what had stopped the unbelievably witty Prongs from responding with one of his usual swift and clever comebacks?

James had answered that question before—briefly recognizing the answer as the truth before shoving it deep within himself for inspection at a later date. But sometimes the ugly truths we try so diligently to suppress have a way of coming back up on us.

_No_, James refused to believe it. He couldn't be—be _that_.

The great James Potter, co-leader of _The_ Marauders, could not be afraid of something as harmless as a tiny baby. He could do it; he could be a father. All of the scrapes he had gotten out of—the times at Hogwarts when he avoided detention were a flobberworm compared to the dragon of facing Voldemort—something he had done twice and hoped to never to again. He wanted to stop the monster, but he thought Lily was going to die on those days, and nothing scared him more than that.

So, James firmly concluded, after all he had been through, being a father would be a piece of cake, right…?

For the 53rd time that night—not that she was counting or anything—Lily looked over at James. He still hadn't spoken, and the silence was beginning to stifle her. She didn't know how much longer she could survive in the leaden air that permeated the living room.

And she knew where the stagnation originated from: James. James who had acted overjoyed earlier now threatened to drive her mad by doing nothing more than sitting. What had happened to him in the time following the speedy departure of their friends?

Lily couldn't be sure…exactly…Okay. This was pointless. She _could_ be sure, because he was mirroring her feelings earlier that day—before she planned for his homecoming and before she mapped out what she would say. Lily had felt it, resting like a jagged rock in the pit of her stomach. The realization that they were going to have a baby. After one year of marriage, at age twenty, they would be having this baby. And that's all without mentioning the war.

There were so many things…things she wanted—no _had_ to think about. Sure, she wasn't the only one having a baby in wartime. But still…

James shifted, causing the old chair to creak ever so slightly. But the slight creak was enough to capture Lily's attention. And to spark her temper.

What was he waiting for? And why in Merlin's name didn't he get out of the blasted chair and sit by her? She had certainly given him enough time to do so. He was avoiding her gaze, she just knew it. This was stupid. And what's more, it hurt like mad. Or maybe that was heartburn.

Either way, she decided to end this. They'd just have to face this, and face it now. Lily opened her mouth.

"Lily." She shut it. He beat her to it and spoke first. She filed that away so that she could remember to give him points for it later. She waited. He made some sort of strange guttural noise before falling silent.

Lily frowned. He was looking away again. And as the seconds ticked themselves away on the cherry timepiece resting on the end table next to the couch, Lily's frustration wound tightly around her chest.

"James."

"Lily"

They spoke simultaneously.

"Sorry, you go ahead," James immediately proffered an apology.

"No, it's fine. You go." The tone of Lily's voice very clearly said that "No, it's fine. You go." really meant, "If you don't speak soon, James Potter, and make this good, I'm going to make your home life a living hell."

As the outside world already presented a surfaced hell, James desperately wanted to keep the magical fantasy of his home separate from the terrors outside.

The problem was, James didn't really know what to say. He was still processing it all himself. "Lily, this is—I…"

The communication problem was further compounded by the expression on Lily's face. Well, not so much the expression, but the sentiment behind it.

To put it simply, she wasn't buying it. He would need to do more than stutter.

Always quick on his feet, James modified his strategy. As much as he didn't fancy being within slapping range, he surmised that sitting beside her might prove a good idea.

Acting on this oh-so-wise inference, James practically jumped out of his chair before regaining his composure and walking slowly toward where Lily sat on the couch, all the while never taking his eyes off of her hands—he wanted to make sure he could duck in the event that she decided to swing.

Lily fought to keep her face expressionless as she watched James try to control himself. He finally made it over to sit beside her. Torn between throwing herself on top of him in relief and slapping him senseless out of frustration, she settled for looking away with a perfectly-audible huff.

A perfectly-audible huff that did not go unnoticed by James. Now his state could be described as borderline-panic. Sure, he had planned on having a whole brood of little Lilys running around. The day he imagined himself as the father of her children, he fully recognised the depth of his feelings toward Lily. …_Someday_ he would become a father….He just didn't think that Someday would be so soon. Yes, they had been married for about a year now.

But they were still so young…

Yet James had to argue that they weren't really so young anymore. War sped the pace of life and grew people up in a hurry. Most young people, he guessed, wanted what he had: a beautiful wife and now, a child—before it was too late and time ran out.

Everyone ran on the clock of war. Each second marked another year of life. They couldn't afford to wait another five years, because they might not even have another two.

And for one beautiful, unsullied moment, James wanted their baby more than anything else.

Snapshots exploded in rapid succession before his eyes. A tiny girl with flaming hair and sparkling eyes running through the yard, zooming around on a miniature broomstick, tackling him, kissing Lily goodnight.

Then, several years later, standing on Platofrm 9¾, hand-in-hand with a tearful Lily, and looking on as their first-born boarded the train for Hogwarts. Of course, by then, there would be several more redheaded offspring jumping about them.

James smiled.

Lily, on the other hand, wished she were angry enough at James to cry. That might relieve the unending build-up of tension. Lily became aware that she wasn't angry enough at James because she was also frightened that he didn't want the baby, that he would leave her. It was irrational, she knew, but she couldn't help but worry. Oddly enough, that simple yet painful realization boosted her anger from piqued to seething.

She was angry. Angry at James for making her feel this way. Most of all, she felt angry with herself for feeling this way.

And at this stage in the night's events, that anger meant leaving the room before she began screaming. With as much composure as she could muster, Lily pushed herself calmly off of the couch and began to pick her way around the furniture obstacle course—making sure all the while to avoid any path that led her past James.

Or at least that was the plan. Before she had taken her third step, Lily felt a burning around her wrist. Making sure she looked directly downward rather than across toward where James' face would be, Lily turned to identify the source of the sudden force. As she suspected, the heat was from the vice grip James had locked in a circle around her wrist. She felt the sticky sweat from his palm and fingers.

"Wait."

Lips set in a line, Lily looked pointedly at James and then at her wrist.

He gulped. "Sorry." Lily cocked her head ever so slightly. James still hadn't let go.

"Oh, right." The slow peel of his fingers away from Lily's skin brought James' attention to the clamminess of his hands, which he wiped off on his robes.

"Look, Lily…"

"James, we've passed that point, so unless you have something worthwhile to say, I—" Lily choked on her next word. James' mouth covering hers caused her to swallow all manner of planned verbal expression.

She wasn't yelling or talking, but Lily decided that was really okay. Grand, as a matter of fact. Somehow beyond all other thoughts, Lily knew that James wanted this baby.

After some time, she pushed herself away from him.

She prepared herself to speak in her most stern and agitated voice, but instead she sounded breathless and gentle. "James Potter if you think that you can ignore me all night and then k—do that to me and expect that I'll forget everything else that's gone on, well you're sadly mistaken."

"Lily, I love you."

"No you don't. If you loved me, you wouldn't have waited so blasted long to—"

"Kiss you?"

"Talk to me, you prat." But it was obvious that Lily didn't believe her own words.

"I love you and the baby inside of you. And I want to marry you."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "You've done that already."

"Oh, yeah. I did, didn't I? Pretty clever of me, don't you think?" James leaned forward to kiss his wife once again, but Lily backed away.

"If you're asking me again, you might just get a different answer this time."

"I know, an 'Oh yes, James, supreme intellect and unbelievably handsome stallion, I would love to become your wife'." Sometime during James high-pitched speech, Lily's mouth flattened, although her eyes still sparkled merrily.

"That wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

"Was I missing a few adjectives?"

"No."

"Lily?" She looked at him expectantly. "I meant what I said--not what I just said, but what I said before--I love you. And I want this baby."

Lily's heartburn dissolved immediately, and all she could manage was an affirmative nod.

There was a second of silence, in which both husband and wife wondered if they should declare their fears to the other. Within that same second, both decided to make it tomorrow's problem. Or perhaps the day after's.


End file.
